Why I Vacuum

Being married offers a number of advantages. One is that I don’t need to stock up on Hamburger Helper and ground beef anymore. And two, one way or another, this house we live in is going to get vacuumed.

Not that I expect my wife to do all the vacuuming. But realistically, I know that if I don’t vacuum and clean up around here, she’ll eventually get around to it and do it herself. Well, at least I’m hoping she will.

Pretending that I am that inconsiderate a husband, there are a few “scenarios” that I can then anticipate:

1. She’ll get around to doing the vacuuming when she can, which would mean that I can’t complain if the house is dirty, and that I should be able to put up with occasional grumbling about me not helping out. Or…
2. She won’t be doing the vacuuming, which means I better shell out some bucks for a cleaning service if I want the house cleaned, or learn to live with the dirt.

Of course, there is the scenario where she just says, “To hell with him” and leaves or throws me out, but let’s not think of that likely outcome.

I suppose I could try to help out morally and intellectually by mapping out and planning an “efficient vacuuming route” for her to follow so she doesn’t spend and waste too much time when she does vacuum. But you know what? I don’t think that kind of help is going to be well-received nor much appreciated.

The fact that this is our house makes all the difference in the world. So my course of action is pretty clear: I think I better plug this vacuum in and start pushing it around.